The DPG
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Claire, Zia, and Franklin go on a mission to free a dog from an underground fighting ring, but discover a disturbing secret along the way . . .


Claire wasn't usually one to get upset over petty insults, but after receiving hundreds of them over the course of a few weeks, she had to admit, it was wearing down on her spirits. Franklin assured her that the nasty emails clogging up her inbox were from pathetic no-names who had big mouths and small hearts, but the sheer _volume_ of these messages worried her. The worst thing of all was when people targeted her insecurities. She didn't quite believe that her entire existence amounted to being "that bitch who sunk Jurassic World", but hearing it over and over again made it sound plausible. _Likely_, even. If the majority of people believed this to be true, maybe it _was _true . . . and she'd had the same thought, herself, so maybe she really _was_ the bad guy, here.

"It's just a vocal minority, Claire," Zia assured her, gesturing to the chunky computer sitting on her desk, which was still piling up with emails, "Anonymity makes people braver, ruder, and all around shittier. Just ignore them and focus on all the good we're doing."

"Yeah, _if_ we ever do it," Claire sighed, rolling backwards in her chair before standing up and lumbering away miserably.

Franklin shrugged.

"We're still finding our footing. We may be small and underfunded and relatively powerless and hated by everyone and-"

"JESUS CHRIST, FRANKLIN!" Zia snapped, "Have you _ever_ helped _anyone_ in your _entire_ _life?!_"

He lowered his head.

"No . . ."

Claire rubbed the space between her eyes, turning away from them sharply.

"It's fine, it's fine. I know that you're doing your best. We _all_ are. No one said this was going to be easy. I just wish our cause had a better face in front of it than . . . _me_ . . ."

"But you're so _cool_, Claire!" Franklin protested, "You singlehandedly fought off the Abominable Rex!"

She snorted.

"_Indominus_ Rex, Franklin, and I didn't fight it off _singlehandedly_. I had a lot of help. But I _did_ manage to _free_ it singlehandedly, so-"

"Claire, the past is in the past," Zia asserted, "Whatever mistakes you made count for nothing compared to the good you're gonna do."

Claire put her hand on Zia's shoulder.

"The good _we're_ gonna do."

She smiled.

"Exactly. We just gotta take our project one step at a time . . . And, you know, there might be an opportunity to prove ourselves very soon."

"Yeah, there might be," Claire echoed dazedly.

"_Very_ soon."

Claire nodded.

"Uh-huh . . ."

Zia blinked.

"Not just _theoretically_, Claire."

Franklin's eyes went wide.

"Zia, if this is another one of your pyramid scams-"

"It's not!"

Claire sighed.

"Guys, stop fighting. If we can't get this thing off the ground-"

"Come on, Claire," Franklin groaned, "We _all_ know that you have this down. After all, we're talking about the woman who beat the Androgynous Rex!"

Zia's lips tightened.

"INDOMINUS. IN-DO-MI-NUS."

Franklin hummed.

"Well, I was _closer_ this time . . ."

Zia inhaled deeply.

"You really weren't. Anyway, what dingus here is _trying_ to say is that we have complete confidence in you, Claire."

"But I've never tackled _anything_ like this before."

Zia forced a grin.

"Well, if you're looking to dip your toes in animal rights activism, I might have an opportunity for you. Remember that one scientist who went missing after the incident?"

"Henry Wu?"

"No, the other one."

"You mean Caleb Orst?"

"Yeah, him! He's been spotted near a secret dog-fighting ring. Also, my ex-girlfriend's pit bull went missing a few weeks ago, so it might be worth investigating in _that_ regard . . ."

Claire narrowed her eyes.

"Zia, are you trying to get me to liberate a fighting dog on your ex's behalf?"

"Or several. Whatever gets me laid."

"ZIA!"

"Look, she's hot, I'm lonely, and quite frankly, I could use a little-"

"No, Zia, I mean, we can't just sneak into a dangerous dog-fighting ring . . . _thing_. What if one of us gets _hurt?_"

"Franklin knows the risks. And aren't we supposed to be radicals?"

"Yes, within the confines of the law!" Claire spat.

"So . . . not radical at all? . . ." Zia hummed.

Claire groaned.

"Zia, please! We can't just go sneaking around a dangerous place for personal reasons, and _especially_ not if you're only doing it for sex."

"It's not JUST about the sex. I like dogs, Claire. Don't you?"

Her eyes darted over to a photo on her desk, then back again.

"Maybe."

"And doesn't it break your little heart that those cute pit bulls are being forced to hurt each other?"

"Yeah . . . I guess . . ."

"So what's the problem? Let's put an end to it!"

Claire whined.

"Can't we just call the cops? . . ."

"NO! The cops aren't here to do good. They're upholding the ideological state apparatus through violence. THEY HATE DOGS."

Claire sucked air through her teeth.

"I mean, sure, but pit bulls are dangerous."

"The irrational hatred of pit bulls is rooted in racism," Zia declared.

"Really?"

"Mhm. Pretty much everything people seem to hate unjustly originates from some form of bigotry. That's why people attack weed and straws and selfies."

"So how did the pit bull thing start, then?"

"It became a popular pet in poor neighborhoods because they protected homes, then people started propagandizing dog fights as a means of vilifying racial minorities. White people suck . . . Yes, even you, Claire."

Claire, who had been waiting expectantly, blinked twice.

"Oh."

"Don't be offended. It's systemic. That being said, you need to improve in a few- Actually, let's not get into this right now. We have cute puppy-dogs to save!"

Claire's eyes went wide.

"Wait, Zia, we never agreed to-"

***DPG***

A few hours later, they were crouching in a dark alleyway.

"Are you SURE this is the place?" Claire whispered.

"Yeah, my ex told me so," Zia replied.

"Is your ex trying to get you _killed?_"

"Why would- Oh, I forgot. You only date men."

Claire frowned.

"Zia . . ."

"You know I'm right! That Owen dude wasn't good for you. Super creepy."

"Zia, leave it alone."

She lifted her hands defensively.

"Alright, I'll drop it. Just be careful, okay? Do you still have that taser I gave you?"

"Pretty sure it's illegal . . . but yeah, I live in a bad part of town. Still, Owen's not gonna kill me. He's probably out in the woods chopping down a moose or working on some farm plowing an ox. I don't know. And I don't care."

When Zia cast a doubtful glance, Claire frowned.

"Look, I'm _over_ him, okay? We're through now, once and for all. Can we just focus on the dogs?"

"I mean, yeah, but we need to find a way to break in."

"Won't they have guard dogs?" Franklin squeaked, "I mean, this _is_ an underground dog-fighting ring . . . though it seems to be above ground-level, which is endlessly confusing . . ."

"Figure of speech, Franklin," Zia hissed.

"Remember, these dogs are not monsters," Claire stated calmly, "They've only been trained to hurt people because they're owned by bad people."

Zia clicked her tongue.

"Hey, Claire, that's getting a little close to 'the kind of people who own pit bulls' argument, which is-"

"I can't _take_ this anymore!" Claire snapped.

Zia flinched.

"Claire!"

She paced back and forth irritably.

"I know! I'm sorry! But I think we need a break. I know it makes me a bad person, but I can't take any more of this criticism. It's draining, and you _never_ let up."

"But . . . I _do_ let up. I've held back on commenting _a lot_ lately, because I know that it's been taking a toll on your anxiety and such."

Claire's eye twitched.

"So, I'm even _worse_ than I thought?!"

She collapsed onto an overturned garbage can.

"Jesus Christ . . ."

Zia knelt in front of her.

"Claire, if you need me to stop, I'll stop."

She shook her head.

"I don't know why you bother sticking around when I'm so _hopeless_."

"But you _aren't_ hopeless, Claire, and that's why I bother to tell you this stuff at all. For as long as I've known you, you've tried your best to grow into a better person, and you _have_. All of us, without exception, have to unlearn something harmful we were taught, growing up. You're not a bad person for feeling upset about it. The fact that you're embarrassed or ashamed of the things you used to say and do indicates that you've grown since then, and it sucks on an emotional level, but dealing with those emotions is part of growing up."

"I'm over thirty."

Zia shrugged.

"Yeah, well. Never too late."

Claire sighed and turned away.

"I think you're wasting your time. I'm not the friend you deserve."

"I don't expect you to be _perfect_, Claire. _No one_ is. But you're someone who _tries_, and _that's_ what matters."

"Lot of good it does me."

Franklin shrugged.

"In my opinion, it does a _lot_ of good. You're one of the coolest people I know. You're right up there with Zia, but you're less scary."

Zia shrugged.

"Fair enough. Anyway, I'm sorry, Claire. I think you're awesome, but if you need a break, we can take a break. I understand that this kind of thing isn't your jam."

After a pause, Claire grinned.

"Well, this may not be my jam, but only because I'm 'jelly'."

Silence.

"It's a play on words!" Claire explained, "Because you two are cool, and I'm jealous."

"I'm cool?" Franklin beamed.

"Well, _Zia_ is, anyway."

They fell to a hush as a stranger marched up to the building. He grumbled something to himself and unlocked the front door. He didn't close it behind him. Zia stared at the open door with determination.

"I'm going in."

"_We're_ going in," Claire asserted.

"You sure?"

Claire rolled up her sleeves.

"I'm ready to go."

***DPG***

After a short period of snooping, followed by exploring- with a bit of meandering in between- the gang managed to sneak into a strange room at the bottom of a rickety staircase, which was filled to the brim with bizarre paraphernalia. Tools made of teeth, head mounts with bizarre shapes . . . it was like a cross between a taxidermist's basement and Home Depot.

Franklin picked up a white instrument, turning it over in his hands.

"This thing is made of bones. Fresh ones, not fossils."

Claire gulped as he held it out for her to see.

"Looks like it came from a dinosaur. Some kind of ceratopsian. It's made of a frill. I think this is where our scientist friend is hiding out. He's been tampering with black market body parts."

Franklin frowned.

"I mean, it's a cool power move, I guess, but I can't imagine it plays well . . ."

He snatched a curved claw off the table and started plucking the strings.

"Yup. Shitty resonance."

Zia rolled her eyes.

"That's because it's not meant to be a _guitar_, Franklin."

He noticed a bow lying beneath a pile of documents.

"Oh, _I_ get it now!"

Before anyone had a chance to stop him, Franklin dragged the bow across the strings. The violin gave a terrible screech.

"Hey, what was that?!" a voice boomed from upstairs.

Franklin went stiff. The bow slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

"Oops."

Zia leapt into action, shoving a chair under the door handle.

"Out the window! Hurry!" she hissed.

The three of them scrambled through a small opening above the desk. Zia was the last to exit, and as she did, a goon burst through the door, arm extended. Instead of grabbing Zia's leg, however, he shut the window hastily. She shot him a questioning look, but realized that Claire and Franklin had frozen in place. There, standing only a few feet away, was a dog unlike anything they'd ever seen before. It was covered in scales, and its feet were adorned with long, clawed thumbs. Its mouth, which foamed white, seemed too large for its face, though it was sandwiched between two halves of a walnut-shaped beak, so it was hard to tell. Inside the maw were several rows of sharp teeth. Taking those into account, and observing the fin on its back, it was clear that this monster was at least a little bit shark, and probably one of the bigger sharks, too. And to top the whole thing off, the hybrid dog looked very, _very_ angry.

Zia gulped.

"Claire, is there any chance that this thing came from Jurassic World?"

The dog growled, and its eyes popped out of its skull, swivelling around like those of a hermit crab.

"No, but I'll bet that it's part of Orst's experimentation. He's probably been experimenting with genetic splicing and vivisection . . . the _good_ news is that we found your ex's dog."

The creature snarled.

"I think we should run," Franklin squeaked.

". . . Yes," Claire agreed.

They all screamed as the hound tore after them, snapping at their heels. The alley that surrounded them was blocked on both ends by wooden fences, and they were low enough to jump over, with a bit of effort. Unfortunately, Franklin was not up to the task, and promptly fell backwards, somehow snagging his underwear on a nail.

"ZIA!"

She stopped in the middle of hoisting herself over the fence, choosing instead to grab Franklin by the waist and shove him to safety. Claire tried to follow his lead, but her flats didn't allow for much grip. She whimpered as she fell down, landing next to Zia.

"BARK!"

The dog was almost upon them. He was no longer running, since his quarry was undeniably cornered. Zia held out her hands plaintively.

"Snickers, this isn't _you_. They may have made you a freaky shark-dinosaur, but deep down, you're-"

She screamed as the dog clamped down on her arm.

"CLAIRE, HELP! SNICKERS IS THE DEVIL!"

Panicking, Claire whipped out a taser and jammed it into the dog's flesh. Zia's eyes went wide.

"CLAIRE, NO!"

It was too late. Both Zia and the dog started convulsing. Realizing what she'd done, Claire gasped and dropped the device. She shoved the smoking dog aside. It flopped limply against the cobblestone, dead. Zia moaned.

"Ow . . ."

Claire turned as part of the fence swung towards her. Franklin stood in the opening, lips tight.

"There's a door. It wasn't even locked."

Claire sighed.

"Of course. Help me with Zia."

***DPG***

When Zia came to in the hospital, Claire and Franklin were sitting by her side. Her eyelids drooped, but she managed to focus on them eventually.

"Did we save Snickers?"

Claire smiled.

"We sure did! He's at home with Callie now. But she said not to call her or anything, because she's emotionally weird right now."

"That's exactly what happened," Franklin said through clenched teeth, "We're telling the truth."

Zia smiled woozily.

"We did it, lads! We're heroes!"

Claire nodded.

"We sure are! We're brave, noble-"

"Honest?" Franklin squeaked, sweating profusely.

Claire forced a laugh and shoved him aside.

"Yes, indeed, we are honest people. Real truth-tellers. But if there was something we had to keep secret because it would emotionally destroy our friend, we wouldn't blab in a million years, _would we?_"

Zia blinked.

"That's oddly specific, but I get your drift. So we're all cool, right?"

"Yep. Except Franklin. Franklin is _never_ cool."

He inhaled sharply.

"And once again, a beautiful moment has turned into an excuse to dunk on me. Nice."

Claire wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, Franklin. You know we love you."

Zia sat up to hug him as well, but promptly fell back onto her pillow.

"Woof, everything's blurry. I think I might have to sleep this one off."

"I'm with you all the way!" Franklin yawned.

He hopped onto the bed and lay down beside her. Claire stretched herself out on her other side. The three of them stared at the ceiling in silence. Then, Claire lifted her head quite suddenly.

"You know, I think you two are my best friends . . . like, _ever_. I'd trust you with my life."

Franklin snorted.

"Zia almost got us _killed_ tonight."

Claire shrugged.

"Almost. But we're okay now. To be honest, I think we made a pretty good team."

Zia held up an imaginary wine glass.

"To the DPG!"

Claire and Franklin joined her in making an invisible toast.

"THE DPG!"


End file.
